


The World that Vengeance Knew

by Dread Wolf Walking (EvoMachine)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dark Solas, F/M, Fen'Harel came out to play, Heartache, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Memories, Mind Control, New tags being added as I go, Non Canon?, Post Trespasser, Psychological Torture, Psychological Warfare, Slow Burn, Solavellan, Spirits, WIP, Well of Sorrows, dreamscape, implied PTSD, mindscape, so much hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-02-12 13:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12959769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvoMachine/pseuds/Dread%20Wolf%20Walking
Summary: Two sides of a war right? You both think that you have all the answers, that you are right in conviction? You can feel yourself becoming less and less with each passing moment, until you notice there is only the shell of what was, and there stands someone, something, you do not recognize. We armed ourselves with the wrongs we had done, we fought for the good of the people and slowly, I saw you turn into more into the Monster my people spun about you; what I had turned into was something far worse than any shem could say about me. It was no surprise how bloodthirsty we had become, but all is fair in love and war right?





	1. Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> Strap yourselves in, I hope you like angst and depressing tales, because, oh boy, this will certainly give it to you. 
> 
> We are post Trespasser by a couple of years. Lavellan had promised to change Solas's mind and hope to stop him from ending the world, but things didn't go as planned

_‘Everyone is doing something, they are all out there, trying to make this world a better place…..and what am I doing? Sulking in the darkest pit of my mind, having lost my love and all my friends…..The Dread Wolf took everything, without even knowing. And yet, why am I still trying to change his mind?’_

A hand clasped over a worn and pale face moved to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, creasing as though in pain. It was not physical torment, but mental. The other hand propped against the table, palm flat against the surface. A map of Thedas was rolled open over the table, markers indicating scouting patterns, the state of war across the country shown by two swords in an ‘x’ shape where armies had clashed, the bulk of which encircled Tevinter. 

All this caused her grief, there was so much to do and so little she could help with. 

The hand against the table curled into a fist as the other sought to shield her eyes, tears at the corners threatening to stream down her face. “War is everywhere, and no one understands the real threat, yet again. How do I protect a world that doesn’t see what is hiding in the shadows?” 

The Dread Wolf had indulged her of his plans to tear down the veil, burning the world she knew to re-build the world he lost. He had laiden her with this knowledge, knowing full well she was the only one who had a chance to stop him. But, he also knew her mind would fight against her, warring over what was right, in which would give him time to lay his plans. He loved her dearly of course, but he had a duty to his people, to fix his mistakes. 

He suffered almost as much as her. But She would never know. 

“Lavellan?” A figure in the doorway, paused for a moment as they took in the sight of an Elf weeping. It was not a scolding tone, but one of concern that came next, “You should be sleeping.” Cassandra rounded the table, standing beside Nevas, a hand on her shoulder for comfort. 

“Everytime I sleep, he is there…” She said with an angry cry. “I’m exhausted, afraid if I blink he will be there. I can’t focus while awake because of this lack of sleep,” Nevas cursed Fen’Harel, “It’s madness! I can’t take a step without the world looking, and I can’t bare them to see me…..” Tears rolled down the pale face as she buried her face in the Seeker’s shoulder. An odd spot to find herself, had she not known the Elf and considered her a great friend her reaction would have been less warm. She wrapped an arm around the smaller woman without a word and let Nevas weep, maybe this would give her strength to push forward, even if it was just a few steps.

There had always been an enormous weight on Lavellan’s shoulders ever since she met her, the founding of the Inquisition as a Dalish Elf bearing a mark of unknown magic, becoming the leader of The Inquisition before taking down an Magister bent on Godhood. It wasn’t fair that even now, after they had saved the world, there was still so much Thedas asked of her friend. With the Inquisition disbanded however, their help was too little, and before long those that had sung them praise now shunned them, sneering that the once Great Dragon Inquisitor had fallen from Grace.

Once a Hero, now, a traitor to the world. 

Now they were a small band of rebels trying to reach out to an Ancient Elf bent on burning the world to bring in the next. Cassandra had wondered if he was worth saving when they found out he was the Trickster God of Elven tales, thought to be only a symbol of legend to scare young elven children. Lavellan had begged them to find a way to change his mind, and at first it seemed to be working. Rarely did they find resistance to their cause, but little did they know Solas had been undermining their efforts, plucking the strings they had not noticed. Only a few months since The Exalted Council too; Nevas told them how he visited her in her dreams, The Fade and teased her heart, only to betray her again. Thedas was turned on them like a poisoned dagger from the shadows. 

Love was a wicked thing and though her friend battled a Great Dragon, becoming a Reaver and had roared in the face of The Darkspawn Magister, Love brought everyone to their knees. She wondered if Solas had felt the same clawing desperation as Nevas did now. 

The Seeker sighed heavily, “Shall we go over what we have found?” She asked gently. 

Nevas was still trembling against the other woman, but she lifted her head to nod. Cassandra shifted the smaller woman to her side, but kept one arm wrapped around her shoulders; a warmth only those close to her knew. Something The Seeker rarely had granted to her; warriors carried their honor, strung high from those around them; offering this closeness to a fellow warrior was the least she could do. 

“Most city Elves and those serving in Orlais have feld, those that were in service to The Inquisition also disappeared. Leliana’s contacts said they were heading towards dense forests said to hide Elven Ruins.” The Seeker pointed to parts on the map as she spoke, making sure Nevas was watching. The elf had wiped her tears away, but it was still clear the sadness was clutching onto her heart. Cassandra cleared her throat and continued. “Solas has gone completely now since your dream, but his agents remain everywhere. We believe he is trying to find more Foci, similar to the one that was destroyed two years ago. Both Fereldan and Orlais are in shambles, trying to fend off rogue attacks, each blaming the other; they are on the brink of war. Tevinter is trying to hold against the Qunari, there are heavy losses on both sides it seems, but Dorian is making progress with the artifacts they have found in ruins..”

The Seeker’s voice started to fade, sounding distant as she continued. Nevas looked up at her friend, but found the image blurred almost. A frown pulled at her brows as she reached for the other with both hands, as though to see if she was really there. A twinge of panic filled her mind, something certainly wasn’t right, her eyes darted from Cassander to her hands; there was only meant to be one, wasn’t there? 

Or atleast even a device that Dagna had made?

Cassandra seemed completely oblivious, still speaking over their plans, even as her hands started to shake and teeth ground against themselves. Nevas flung herself at The Seeker believing herself to be trapped inside this memory and that a Demon was impersonating her friend, instead she fell through her image, like mist and tumbled onto the ground. She snarled, reaching for a dagger with the arm Dagna had made to strike again when her eyes caught her own image, now with a single arm, still beside Cassandra and faulted.

“What…” Nevas whimpered. If it wasn’t a Demon controlling her memory, then what was happening? And why had she started this memory with her arm in tact?

Cassandra and her double played out the memory without a mistake, citing major plans to attack trade routes and intercept spies. Nevas felt her anger rising, frustrated she couldn’t do anything; she went to the door an attempt to leave but was meet with a invisible wall. Growling Dalish curses, she ventured across the room, fingers curling into a fist as she punched forward, hoping the break the wall. Again, she was met with a force that stopped the memory from being broken. She was trapped within her own mind?

“They are using Eluvians to move quickly across Thedas, but Leliana might have some ideas on where these mirrors are hiding.” She heard Cassandra say, a slight chuckle at the end of her words. “There are also whispers of a temple hiding a powerful artifact of your people…..”

Somewhere within the memory, a voice whispered for more, as though watching from a place unseen. 

Nevas looked up to find the source of the whisper, but it was darkness above her; shouldn’t there be a ceiling there? The Elf stepped back from the wall, ignoring the pair still staring at the map, trying to see if there was a way out above her. She threw small stones she fumbled for and while they did not hit anything, they did not come back down either.  
There was a flicker of hope, an idea, if this was a memory, her memory, maybe she could change it. No harm in trying. 

She calmed herself, breathing in deeply as she closed her eyes, envisioning the particular memory playing out before her. Starting off small, Nevas sort to change the clothing she had worn, sure it had been Dalish Leathers rather than her nightdress, her hair pulled back into a braid rather than a messy, unbrushed nest. She even imaged Cassandra with long hair rather than her short almost shaved style. 

After a moment deliberating with herself and certain of her thoughts, Nevas slowly opened one eye, only to gasp at the memory now before her. It had changed. Her clothes and hair; Cassandra looked rather dazzling with long black hair pulled high to fall from the top of her head.

Without another thought, her eyes closed again, and she set to work changing everything she remembered, being sure it was her own memory. The map disappeared in a flame of embers as did the table, though the pair standing before it didn’t miss a beat until Nevas thought otherwise. The scene of the dank dungeon fell from around them, twisting into the ground before the ghosts of her mind did the same. Nevas’s still had her eyes shut tightly as she remembered nothing but a black void without sound, not even the whispers from the Well of Sorrows sung to her. 

There was an angry snarl unseen, it ripped through her being, however, her eyes snapping wide open looking for whatever had made such a terrifying noise. A pair of red eyes shone in front of her making her very soul shake as the slitted pupils focused on her. Nevas bared her own teeth in retaliation, instinct kicking in, and dagger held in her only hand ready to defend herself. Though such an image would frighten most, Dalish especially, she sought to fight against that which trapped her here.

“Clever little Warrior,” came a voice she knew, “But you cannot simply forget everything you know!” 

Pain pressed hard against her mind, she cried out, writhing against the pressure. Harder and harder still it pushed, as though two hands clung to her head and sought to wring her memories like water from a wet towel. The void filled with images, memories playing back, voices whispered from each. Nevas struggled against the invisible force, teeth grinding to try and hold back more of her mind slipping from her hold. The voice was right, she couldn’t simply remove her memories, not without losing what made her, but it was the only way she could stop who-ever it was from taking what they were after. Every memory that was pulled before her she blacked out, one from her childhood, a couple of past mistakes, but when it came to her time as The Inquisitor, she couldn’t…..

“If you just let me see what I want, it wouldn’t hurt. Nor would I have to tumble through all of them.” The voice whispered, as a smaller pair of eyes opened above the larger set, glistening ruby. But pain meant she was still alive, pain made people stronger, and she would not give in to the promise before her, even as four blood red focused on her with a cold glare. These memories however….

She couldn’t bring herself to forget those years. She reached for the voices from The Well, pleading them to tell her what was happening; her mind lingered on the memory that was her drinking from The Well. Solas had begged her not to drink from it, her love had said nothing more on the matter, his voice a hard edge and expression cold, but she did anyway. Bound to Mythal for all time, her actions all for the Lost Elvhen God. Whispers started as mist to her response, but before she could hear them clearly they were silenced and she felt her bond with them burn. 

“That is not my will, Vhenan!” The voice hissed, another pair of eyes opening just below the first, however smaller, the intensity in which they held her was still the same. The Voices were pained for a moment, yet she could not understand their murmurings. Again, she tugged for more, her eyes shut tightly as a hand clutched at her temple. If only she could just focus! 

She cried out as a seething burn flashed within her, the bond with Mythal subduing her again. That voice had not been Mythal’s, but Solas’s? The Well cried foul, how could The Dread Wolf use the bond to Mythal? How could he sully that bond!? How dare he use it to his own wishes! Mythal surely did not live on through Fen’Harel! 

A maul of jagged teeth opened below the eyes, fangs of the wolf. A cold breath dusted over her form, as though Fen’Harel’s breath bore a blizzard. 

The Dread Wolf had come to claim her memories, but why!?

“Show me what you know, Vhenan!” Solas’s voice raged around her as the jaws of the wolf opened wide, as though he was about to devour her. 

Images of him leaving her by the large eluvian flashed before her, Nevas felt her body stiffen from that memory, that pain. And so The Dread Wolf broke her defences, able to sift through her mind like sand; the pace in which she saw her memories quickened before settling on one very recent. Nevas stood with Morrigan surrounded by rubble from a ruin since taken over by the forest, but what lay before them was what the Dread Wolf was after. Her ghost image reached out to touch the orb cradled within the hands of statute, one that depicted Falon’Din, but Morrigan pushed her hand away as the orb hummed, pulling the magic within the long forgotten temple towards it. Her Reaver blood burned with rage, “No! Solas!” She roared and in her attempt to halt her mind, Nevas clutched tightly at a dagger she held and positioned the tip of the blade against her temple.  
Almost instantly, the ghosts of her memory turned to mist and the pressure within her head faulted, leaving completely. She could not allow him to see the rest, even if the bond she had to Mythal ignited within her chest. 

“Mythal lives within me now!” Solas called, frustrated, “You are bound to Mythal’s will, my will! Please, I do not wish to push harder, but, I will see what I want!” 

“You will see nothing if I am dead, Fen’Harel!” Her voice snapped, laced with a bitter coldness as the blade tip pressed harder against her. 

“I can’t let you do that!” The wolf snapped it’s jaw shut, but Solas’s voice growled. 

“I will be dead before you can press further!” Nevas spat, tears in her eyes, as her fingers tightened around the blade and started to press it harder to her temple. Pain blossomed forth as did her blood as the tip pressed against her skull, though before she could plunge blade to cease her memories another voice whispered to her. Not from the Well, not Solas’s, a new one. 

“Da’len, stay your hand!.” It cried, “Your soul will be a slave to The Fade if you die here!”

“How many seek my memories!?” She growled, her eyes opening to gaze back at the six in front of her. Nevas’s sneer dropped as her gaze focused at the ethereal hand placed against her chest, she felt another against her forehead. In a moment of panic, she struggled to move her head until she looked to her side, and saw someone beside her. 

Now she knew why the Avvar seemed so puzzled when questioned about their mages keeping bonds with a spirit. 

“A spirit?! Leave this place!” Solas’s voice demanded. His tone hinted that the spirit did not wish her memories, but was here to help her, protect her?

“I cannot leave her!” It called back, sounding like many voices speaking at voice, “But you did, Dread Wolf! The pain you cause, you carry the burden of your people, but you shame them with what you are doing to her.” 

“Who are you!” Nevas whispered, almost sobbing again as the Dread Wolf howled in response. The spirit shone bright, aura the same shades of blue and red within her own eyes, before moving to stand behind the Elf. The ghostly hands now placed at her shoulders, squaring her off to gaze back at the Dread Wolf still haunting her mind. However, her fingers still held the dagger against her temple, though she trembled.

“We share the same name, Da’len…..” The spirit spoke softly now, trying to calm her. “And I won’t let you die here, neither will he….”

The dagger fell from her hand, becoming sand within the void, as did the spirit. They faded downwards, her eyes watched them for a moment before looking back upto six that still focused on her. The spirit was right, Solas did not wish for her to walk to her death here; not in the way The Dalish believed the Dread Wolf would; to be lead to the void, trapped forever.

The blood red eyes closed leaving her to the void of her own mind for a moment before her own closed, exhausted and wounded, even as her blood burned for a fight, she just wanted some rest.

“Wake up.” Solas whispered, igniting a memory she wished would leave her alone.


	2. All Pride and No Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nevas awakens confused, only to find someone awaiting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/06/18 : There are a few grammar and punctuation mistakes I have caught on while re-reading when submitted. I shall endeavour to sort them out ASAP 
> 
> Keep in mind I am from Australia, so the spelling of certain words will be different.

Large eyes opened suddenly, reflective in a dark gloom; holding her breath as they adjusted. For what little light there was, it reflected against stone walls, old and damp, a pale fog settled just over the ground. She was laying on her stomach, cheek pressed against the cold surface, body aching from exhaustion. Only her wide eyes moved, first to look at herself, checking for any wounds or bindings; only when she felt no restraint or pain to move, Nevas placed her hand against the stone, pushing herself to sit up before resting against the wall close to her back. 

She breathed in deeply, her first thought rising to the forefront. ‘Where am I?’ With her heart beating so rapidly, her senses pushed outwards to find any source of danger. Shadows of small skittering creatures caught her eyes as they darted over the walls and floors, breathing in; sounds of dripping reached her ears, but far away it might have been, breathing out. Nevas sought to find more of her surroundings, another shaky breath in, and a breeze moved over her knees, rattling a cage door making it creek like a dying cry. Breathing out; the palm of her hand touched the stone she sat on, it was cold, though she could feel the subtle sensation that magic had touched this place. In, at the back of her mind, something whispered sweetness and as she focused on it’s song, that tender kiss turned to a devouring lick, willing her to come forward. 

Nevas coughed, having held her breath for far too long. The old voices within her scolded her in an ancient tongue with a sharp ‘tut’ to add insult. ‘The red song, you should know better. Strange that a warrior should feel it’s pull so great…….hmmm?’ 

“All you ever do is scold..” She hissed to herself. 

There was a swell of emotion from those of the well, rising up like a parent would stand over a misbehaving child, ‘Because all you do is fumble,’ came in a harsh tone echoing strong as all those consumed by the well agreed with one another. Few more cried out she took far too long to put the pieces of a puzzle together, and Nevas shot back. 

“Maybe if you helped rather than mock,” A growl quiet low with venom. Nevas grew wearily of these ancient tones, she was already exhausted from the battle previous and the encounter with Solas. While she could feel the annoyance that seeped from these voices, one small and soft came forward. It told her to breath much slower, for anger would only lead her to feel dizzy and unfocused, in such a tone that could only be described as childlike. As the pace of her heart slowed to something less panicked, yet still alert, a thought crossed her mind like a slap to the face. 

“Wait, the battle!” Nevas stood quickly, only to regret it as black spots clung to her eyes, threatening to push her back down before she rested a shoulder against the wall, “What happened? Everyone….” 

The voice of the Well groaned suddenly, ‘Well, she finally remembered her reality.’ Few chided, while the rest sought to help her piece her thoughts back together. They had come…’here’ for a confrontation, Nevas and what allies remained after the Inquisition had disbanded, what they had deemed to be the last battle to decide the fate of the world. Leliana had her few spies hurry back to confirm what was uncovered, that Solas had returned to Haven, to the Scar that glistened in the sky with clear intent to tear it open once again. And pull back the Veil. 

“I’m….in the ruins of Haven?” Her eyes darted about, she felt as though this could have been a cell similar to the ones that she had been in when the Breach was made, but it was far too small and felt almost lived in as she spied a desk and chair, few books stacked on one another. “No….there wasn’t red Lyrium in Haven….”

She had to move, to see the rest of this place. Her legs burned as she pushed herself to walk, bruised knee caps making her steps less balanced as she clung to the wall, waiting for some strength to return. Nevas needed to know what had happened since her absence from the battle. She growled at herself to move, drawing what she could from her stamina, as that voice from before told her to breath from time to time. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her arm dropped from the wall to find her balance. 

With her eyes adjusted to the gloom of his place, a caged door gently swinging in a bull breeze came to view; having been the rattling sound she must of her before. At least she was not locked in, and it pushed open with ease as she moved forward. 

Into a large hall she came, a whirling chilling breeze dropping in from the ruined ceiling as snow dusted the floor in patches; most of the roof had collapsed an age ago, rubble laying skittered about the ground below the holes. This place felt like an old meeting place, a ruler may stand in the centre surrounded by all their court to hear their declaration. Large pillars lined the sides though most had crumbled with the ceiling, her fingers extended to touch one as she passed by to step into the main area. Wooden benches were littered and upturned throughout, along with chairs and old cushions but candlelight glinted from around the hall, recently lit. ‘I don’t feel danger.’ She thought to herself, stopping by more of the fallen stone, turning to see more of her surroundings. 

Breath in, a temple she stood in, one that held onto the magic that touched it; a place that had not since life for so long, but witnessed death so much not long. Breath out, a tug on her shoulder as though someone had pulled on her hand that once had been there; something familiar but felt like fire, crackling green sparked over head and an eerie green light flooded the hall beneath it. A heavy and slightly choked breath in, Nevas turned her gaze skyward only to feel dread pull the air from her lungs as she realised what it was above. 

The Scar of The Breach caught the light of the fading sunlight, glittering rays of green illuminating the entire area as though she was back in The Fade; her stone limb reached out, fingers extending as though the appendage remembered the motion from when it was flesh.

“I’m…” Words caught in her throat, she had too many questions to pace her thoughts. 

“Where it all began.” A voice too familiar to Nevas, cloaked in a low and dark tone. 

Turning on her heel, her weapon drawn without question in her right while her other stayed stretched out, but defensive rather than clutching for answers. Nevas felt the fire of her Reaver burn around her heart, spreading outwards readying her for battle, her eyes burned a rage that might even make a demon tremble, but only one saw through that facade, like he always had; the quiver of her lip had always been a dead give away to her hesitation. A small thing, very few had ever saw it.

“Solas.”

The Elf who hid his true self from those whom called him friend, Fen’Harel was outfitted for battle; in the light of The Fade he looked like the God whose mantle he had refused to wear, until now. Similar attire he had worn at the elvens ruins where countess Qunari now stood as stone, gold plated armor down his legs and across his arms, but the pattern mimicked the circles of a Foci. Once a Wolf pelt perched on his shoulder, now an ebony fur layered over the top of the golden armor around his shoulders and over his chest, tapered to a point on his back, like a tail. It was as though someone had gone to the trouble of sewing rubies throughout the fur; The Dread Wolf’s gaze could see everything. Over his less favoured shoulder a piece of armor to protect it. All weak points covered. 

And the staff on his back, craved to wolf’s head on top, emblazoned with three eyes and a wolf’s jaw as a blade at the tip of the staff. 

He watched her silently, standing tall but some paces away, but she could feel the sting of his gaze loom over her. A Wolf calculating his next step, caught in a moment he thought would never come again; peering over His Love. Nevas finally breathed again, however rough, it did not stop the piercing gaze that shot up to him, nor its intensity as the colour within burned brightly. Solas held contact, a stone-like expression defining his sharp features didn’t match the pale sorrow within his eyes. She almost dropped the cold stare. Almost. 

He knew His Love. She was the burning heart that tore through her enemies, a force of nature that everyone mistook for a bright-eyed innocent elf. Her soft features had made her hard to read, and she had surprised everyone with her wit, knowledge and the force that she fought with. Life had treated her poorly, but that had not broken her spirit or resolve. It only grew as he watched, The Warrior before him of Great Dragon’s blood, and yet….He had broken her.

“Why…..” She hissed through gritted teeth. 

Solas still didn’t drop his eyes - he saw her before him, but in pieces; his doing. All for the restoration of The Empire he had destroyed so many years ago. He should not have indulged that kiss, nor pulled her back for another. Their relationship allowed both of them comfort, one she had never felt, and one he had abandoned to carry the weight of his mistakes. Slowly, he had watched her drop the brooding facade, giving more of herself, and he had loved everything she was. Her nature drew him closer, curious little elf hidden so well behind the walls she had put up. Even after Adamant, he had still been surprised to see her fall to her emotions, distraught that she could not save Alistair from The Fade, and surprised further still when she clung to him, weeping. A crack. 

“Tell me why!” Nevas pressed again, her voice dark. 

He was so sure she would have let Morrigan drink from the Well of Sorrows, he had been so overwhelmed once she stepped into the pool, it was little wonder he had been hard on her when they finally made it back to Skyhold. The woman he loved and adored bound to Mythal, a cruel twist of fate he had thought, until she thought to change the world with that knowledge and bring the culture back to The Dalish. A Reaver and a Scholar? An unlikely combination. He had been surprised by her, every step of the way; every little thing she did was something he had not expected. Had she really come from a Dalish upbringing, he had wondered so many times, but a spirit such as her’s could not be tamed by them. 

“Answer me!” A desperate, and angry cry.

Even in Crestwood, having removed her Vallaslin, he had been in awe. Nevas showed more of herself then, beautifully enraged. She had been hurt, discarded even by the man she loved, but rather than beg for him to return, she had cursed him for leaving her in such a way. That was something he was not ready for. Solas had seen her lunge forth towards her enemies without mercy, bare witness to countless times she judged harshly on those that deserved it, but to have that face, that expression turned on him…. He had almost lost his resolve, A God catching his breath, second guessing himself over the gaze of a hardened elf. 

“Stop agonising over the past and answer me!” 

And yet, he had still braved forward with his mission. Even after watching her take down The Darkspawn Magister and his Dragon, she was fierce and calculated in battle against him, never stopping, even with deep wounds of her own. Solas had held his breath as she had flung Corypheus into the fade, tearing him apart and healed the sky above them. His orb had not survived the battle - it wasn’t her fault though, the blame rested on his shoulders, but it still stung to see his artifact in pieces. He had expected her to discard it, but instead, even after cursing his shadow of love, she had touched his shoulder, and expressed her sadness at the loss he felt. Like she knew. 

“Solas!”

Her furious gaze was just like the one he had seen on the steps of those elven ruins not too long ago, the first time they had seen each other in two years. Even in all his preparation that he might see her again, even with all the knowledge his spies had recorded back to him about The Inquisitor, his resolve almost broke once again. Her innocent face had shaped into something a little more determined, those short curls he used to run his fingers through had been pulled into a long braid, just reaching past the curves of her hips. He wished he could reach down and hold her, whisper to her that nothing was wrong, but that was his mistake in the past. Solas knew she was his weakness, constantly looking out for her, any little bit of information. 

But his cause was greater than….love….he was already committed to his plan to restore the world to what once was, and now there was no turning back. 

“Because I made a mistake that cost our people everything.” He spoke finally, his eyes never leaving her, “You, of all people should know the burden…” 

“What about my people Solas!? Genocide can’t be the only answer!” She begged, however her voice was still dark. “We deserve to live too! I know you see the world in a dark comparison to what it was, but we aren’t tranquil! A dwarf gave me a new arm!” Nevas hoped, eyes showed her determination, that drawing attention to her new limb would at least give him a moment to pause. It was a strange thing, many thought it wouldn’t work, the idea was too outrageous. It had taken Dagna a long time, and many failed attempts previously to get to what Nevas now used. A dull thrum of blue light glittered between the device and the end of her arm, lyrium willed to link flesh and stone together; Dagna had theorized that both still wished to be together, it was then a matter of having raw lyrium so close to her skin that had troubled them for so long. No longer something strapped to her she couldn’t use, Nevas had a fully functioning arm made of stone, and it had made her fighting style even more deadly. 

Solas glanced down, eyeing the limb with a hard stare and pursed lips. He could not deny the genius behind such a creation, and she had been right to draw attention to whom had made such a thing. Dagna was clever, a dwarf would carved her own path within the world of magic, and there in front of him was something he didn’t even dream was possible, and while it didn’t mimic her original arm, it still looked like one rather than a piece of stone mined from the earth. Fingers that moved and flexed to her will, a defined wrist and an elbow and clearly someone had put some thought into the design, even sculpted to match the lines of her muscles that had once been there. 

He sighed, “And yet, that was only one dwarf.” 

“And I was only one Elf!” Nevas growled, getting to her feet to stand and face him. 

“And look what happened to you!” Solas howled back to her, his eyes flickering a dark shade of anger within them, his steps brought him closer to Nevas. “You tried to show me this world was worth saving, but in doing so proved the opposite.” Amongst the anger, there was a hint of desperation to his voice, “You saved them from a world of chaos and darkness, and look at how they repaid you. They all, but a few, turned on you! Hunted you like a war criminal and tried to persecute you!” His eyes blazed once more as his hands turned to fists in frustration, “The humans sort to take any sort of authority you had, your own people turned you away because you no longer wore your Vallaslin, you were at war with The Qun, and while Imperium had no real issue with The Inquisition, you are an Elf; a being who should not rise to any authority!” Solas stared her down, challenging her resolve, “The whole world turned its back on you! Can’t you see why I am doing this? I will restore our people to their proper place! You of all people should understand this!” 

Nevas could only stand there, blindsided, and the heavy truth that hit her with every word. “I can’t watch so many innocent people die!” Her eyes sparking a blood red as she flung words back at him, “It isn’t right to birth a new world at the suffering of the old!” Her anger matched his own, stepping forward to close the gap between them. She had always picked her battles with honour , what she believed was morally right, it was a little wonder why her and most of her inner circle had fallen from each other. Most of them wanted the world to go back to the way it was, and were happy for that change to never come. Nevas wanted a revolution of change, she wanted a world of peace and some semblance of equality, but, that required more than she could give. Once these choices were easy, but now, she could not bare the thought of more innocent people dying for a cause that might not be seen through; one lonesome elf was not enough to change the world a second time. Friends had gone, and only a few sought the same change. 

“After everything they have done to you,” Solas reached out, voice shaking from anger and disbelief, “You still think this world deserves to flourish? There is no honour in this world….” Her hands twitched, he had hit a nerve. “And why would I want to save a world after seeing what they did to you?” While he had a hand or two in making her footing in Thedas unstable, he had not foreseen a witch hunt at the hands of the humans against her, then again, wasn’t this the reason he sought to ruin the world? To wipe out the scum and pave a new Empire for his people? “I will right the wrong I did to the people, I will save the Elves.” Perhaps that was a little reminder for himself, why he had hurt the woman he still loved.

Nevas couldn’t withhold her tears any longer, had she truly loved a man who thought that wiping out the life that stood in his way was the right thing to do? It pained her to feel love for someone who knew such hate and disdain; it tore her very being and shattered her heart, could could she love someone who had little regard for life of others?

“It shouldn’t be up to the will of one person to say who lives and who dies.” She was sobbing, but Solas hit back, “You did, didn’t you? I admired you for being able to make a hard choice, knowing that lives were at stake, you did it with a harden resolve, wars are won like such.” Nevas’ fingers bunched against her eyes, wiping away the tears as they pooled in the corners, her days of Inquisitor were long over, and she had sought to distance herself from such a title that bore the dread of having many under her command. “But now? You don’t want to sacrifice anyone anymore? No matter what, people will die, you cannot change the course of their fate. Not making a choice doesn’t mean it’s the right one.” 

She was becoming frustrated, this was going nowhere, and she felt a crushing coldness through the pit of her stomach, she had failed to change his mind, and now anything she could have possibly have said was worthless. Solas had made up his mind and Nevas became infuriated at the revelation.

Her voice was acid, “Of all people, I know what it is like to live with the burden of my choices! You always told me, the more I try to fix my mistakes, the more it hurts when I cannot change the past!” 

“I damned the Elves!” Solas lashed out, his expression livid, “How could that possibly not shape me!? Do you expect me to forget what I have done, to just cast it aside like it was nothing!?”

Nevas shook her head, “I don’t want you to forget. I want you to accept your mistakes.” Even in the harsh cold of the mountain ruins, Solas couldn’t help the warmth of pride for her grow in his chest, still ever fond of her way to make people think outside their usual perspective, and had he been a weaker man again then perhaps he may have found himself hesitating. However warm her words and his smile, his thoughts on the matter reflected the opposite. 

“I accept my mistakes, but I will also right this wrong.” He said firmly, a snarl on his lips as she began to protest him, “Do not claim the moral high ground, Vhenan, there is no honour in what you are doing now!” 

He stepped forward to close the gap between them, a distance that seemed like an age as he glided down a small set of stairs, his arms moving behind his back as those icy eyes never left her trembling figure. The sight of him walking towards her in his Godly attire was intimidating, Nevas clutched tightly at her sword as her gaze narrowed in on Solas, and while she was ready to hold her ground, pain across head forced her footing backwards; like a headache only the tension felt like a rope being pulled taut. What felt like her heartbreaking before now turned to a cracking sensation over her chest, her stone hand clenching over it as she choked on air. Left without an explanation, she reached for the well but was only given silence. 

“You would deny the Elves a chance to return to the world were they were free and well off; a world in the image of equality, never slaves and no ‘Gods’ who demanded they follow?” His voice was hard, and he intended to wield words in this battle.

Closer to her now, his words were like a blade that struck between the shoulder blades extending that shattered feelling around her entire torso, winding her. Nevas coughed back a painful cry; she was unable to get a word in against his and a panic rose in her as she stepped back, that cold dread started to grow with that cracking sensation and she whimpered, unable to hold her discomfort at bay any longer. Those wide eyes of hers darting around her form trying to find the source of the pain, but there was no wound, or blood. Just pain that spread from her chest and up the back of her neck; it was almost hard to hear Solas speak through the thrum of her heartbeat that raced in her ears. 

“You would seek to keep them in this world where they would forever remain at the heels of those who trampled you, and you would be unable to be their voice against the world, and you would be consumed by grief, unable to change the world. Either way, Vhenan,” Solas had closed the gap now, catching her as she started to drop to her knees but only to hold her gaze with his own narrowed and piercing stare, an arm around her waist and his thumb and index finger sliding under her jaw to lock her there. His eyes never left hers, even as they fell heavy with tears and her body had started to shake as the pair knelt, Nevas begged of The Well for an response, but she was still met with silence. 

Such pain couldn’t be the work of magic?

“Innocent people will die. This choice cannot be made off the back of ‘thinking’ we are right, but doing what is right. Not out of Pride, only Duty. If Honour had a place here, you would have killed me instead of hesitating when you had the chance.” His face was mere inches away from her, Nevas could feel his breath pressing against her cheek as she felt the final crack fissure through her being, but even the promise of his affection was not enough to silence her cry of agony as pain burned through her chest and mind, it twisted over and over again; Solas held her even against her thrashing and cries of pain, it was difficult knowing he was the cause of her pain, of her very being breaking, but no longer could he indulge her in these foolish attempts to stop him.

“That - that pain you are feeling is proof that I am right - Honour; a spirit that lived within you, and now it stands shattered, having had its own nature turned against it.” 

The Avvar had called her deeds Honourable; saving their tribe and their land, ultimately saving the world once again from a threat only the old spirits knew. After the Inquisition had been disbanded there had been no place for her, everything she knew was gone or changed; Bull had offered to take her within the ranks of The Chargers, but she had declined. In the end, she had travelled back to Stone-Bear Hold, and the tribe had welcomed one who fought so bravely before. It was as close to her clan as she could come, being a protector and wiping out the rest of the Hakkonite fanatics; the tribe wondered about her nature, something so unhinged in battle but so silent during dinner. The Augur had been surprised to learn of her ignorance about the spirit tethered to her, though in light of her reaction when they had first come to The Hold it only made him laugh about those who hide themselves away from the world around them. Perhaps this is why so many went mad, he had wondered during mediation, unaware of the entity that resides inside they end up breaking or twisting it against its nature. 

Spirits only wish is to join the living, Solas had said once.

“Honour is a fickle spirit, it will always try to do what is right, and that is it’s downfall.” His voice was but a whisper, rattled and clearly pointing to his own deeds so many years ago, but he continued still holding her by her waist with one arm and her jaw in his palm, “You are still you, that never changes, that spirit was more you than you were of it. Honour sought to grow and branch outwards into the world, and your time as Inquisitor nurtured it. Perhaps this was the reason why you were so different from The Dalish.” Solas hummed for a moment, reliving their first moments together, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted now, he was so close, “I admired the will and determination you had to not only bring peace to the world, but try and change it; you were not ready to let the world fall back into comfort, something needed to change.”

Nevas clung to Solas as though he was her next breath. Once her body had ceased convulsing, a hand wrapped tight around his upper arm while the other grasped at his shoulder, from there she couldn’t bear the thought of moving, fearing her very being would shatter much like her spirit. She had wanted to make that change, or even just be the start of it; there was nothing for her after the Inquisition, it would have been the right moment to use her strength and witts to create a change. But didn’t. Nevas had become caught in her own loss, she had lost her arm, her lover along with most of her sense of purpose, she had needed her own time to rest, but the world didn’t wait for her to recover. 

“Honour was strong, however subjective. It should be bound to someone’s else morals, there by maintaining itself; Honour that which commands it. Mythal’s will, for instance, would have allowed your spirit to flourish.” He spoke softly, as though he was soothing her, Nevas wished she could pull away from such lies, he had been so enraged before, it felt wrong, “However, you are bound to Mythal, and your actions do not speak of her desires.”

“I wanted..” Nevas could only talk through clenched teeth, “I thought I was doing what was right, not everyone in Thedas deserves to die…”

“You drank from The Well, did you not? What you may have wanted for the world no longer mattered if it did not coincide with her vision for the future.” He said as a matter of factly, through kissing her cheek gently with cool lips. 

Lavellan could feel her heart flutter at this touch, and she grasped harder on his arm with her real arm. She had wondered what her ‘bond’ to the Well would have meant in terms of her existence - was there a path she had to tread in order to keep her end of the bargain that was made? Ancient beings were sticklers for details, and yet they were deceptive with those details, it was always a game, a chase or something that ended with less favour than before. There had not been any ‘feeling’ pulling her away from certain thoughts, so she had continued on her path; however now it was clear she had gone down the wrong fork. Her heart continued to race, as did the burning across her chest, sharp and splinted like broken glass. It spread up her neck and threatened agony around her mind. 

“What is happening….” Nevas begged of the Well as she clutched tighter still at Solas’s arm, he didn’t flinch away from pressure she held, if anything it only made him more composed. 

The Well whispered for a moment only one voice answered, one that sought authority and respect from anyone who heard it, “Mythal has passed Judgement upon Honor; found it corrupt and not apart of her Will. A spirit’s course is rarely swayed, it would have kept upon that road unless it was stopped.” 

Nevas gasped, almost whimpered, “But, It was my action’s, not the spirits!” 

How could Solas let something like this happen to a spirit? 

“Mythal Judges The People, not those who are but a Shadow of what was. The Elves deserve peace and a chance for a proper life, you and that broken spirit have attempted to stop that from coming to pass, and while Mythal could decide your fate, she has chosen to spare your punishment for another.” Spoke the Well Again. 

Lavellan’s stone hand reached upto her head, cradling it has her eyes shut tightly to hold back her pained tears as she wept. Everything hurt, her body, her mind and what she even thought to be her soul all cried out in anguish. She didn’t feel whole, a cold and empty shell; the shattered spirit turned on her, feeling as though her very being was being torn from the inside by everything she thought was right. The lashes of the past blinded her with every stab of pain, each reminder bringing to life her ‘misdeeds’ to Mythal. 

“Irabelas ma Vhenan.” Solas spoke as a means to soften her pain. It did for a moment, her breathing hitched as raw emotion beat against her head, sending a tingle like feathers breathing down her sides across her chest. Heat erupted from her heart as her ears started to burn and cheeks flushed, but it was a lie, it was always a lie. Her fingers tightened their hold once again, but this time her fingers dug against the furs of his shoulders and arm, her nails threatening penetration the longer she held. Solas mistook this for need; need for closeness and for him, and moved his arm to wrap around her waist to pull her closer to him. Her face would have been buried in the dark furs had his other hand not pulled her chin upwards. He looked over her, a pained expression pulling at his eyes as he saw the remnants of tears down her cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the red misshapen blotches around her face from crying made him bit at his lip briefly; he had not seen the anger in her eyes. Instead, he cradled her cheek fondly before leaning in, kissing her. 

Nevas felt her body shiver from the sudden kiss, her lips were dry and cracked, making them burn as she returned the kiss, bewildering herself. For her all anger towards this Elf, for all the curses she had practiced for this moment, she would always fall to such softness. And in her moment of weakness and pain, Nevas felt herself give in. So many years of sorrow, of doubt; along with her old title, she wanted to be given rest. The world had taken so much from her, a lost elf clung to the only thing that could breath life back into her and she greedily kissed him back. There was a spark, a light that brightly shone those memories from the past of their tender embraces. Haven being their first, then the way he had held her from the news of her clan’s decimation; he had turned into her everything then. Tears watered their cheeks and jaws, Nevas was fighting off the bitterness of their last kisses, while Solas pressed closer towards her.

There was a brush of magic that washed over her being, the sign that this moment would soon be over, it only made the warrior throw her arms around The Dread Wolf to stop him from leaving...again. No, she needed something to fill the void that now consumed her soul! Nothing mattered anymore, and in her mind she cried out against the looming emptiness that threatened to consume her. Nevas wanted to move closer, perhaps it was the odd way she was kneeling against the ground that left her unable to move, but it didn’t matter, her hold around his shoulders wasn’t going to let him leave. 

“This will be the last time I leave you.” It was strange hearing him speak after moments of silence, and though the words were spoken against her lips, it took a moment for them to sink in. He sounded sombre, almost choked to hold back his tears, but why? 

A wave of panic hit Nevas square in the face, no, he couldn’t leave her again! In an effort to pull away from him, she was unable to move her legs at all, having lost all feeling to her toes. As much as she didn’t wish to open her eyes to the world, Nevas forced them open with a hard stare to follow. She was met with the ethereal gray eyes of Fen’Harel, glowing with the magic of a spell. 

“Solas?” She questioned him with fear clear in her tone. He didn’t respond, only pulling away as her arms fell from his shoulders. There was as sting of pain as her knuckles hit something hard against her legs, and her eyes followed to see what they may have hit. They widened. 

“No……” Nevas could not contain her shock, nor the outrage that followed once she realised the spell he had been casting during their kiss. The anguished howl that pierced the silence was enough to fill anyone with Dread. 

From the hips down she was stone, and unlike the Qunari forces that were statues in an instant, magic crept painfully slow up her body, like a plague.


	3. Dragon's Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings/Triggers:  
> -Violence  
> -Mild Gore

Nevas was all emotions at once; everything that could have called to a demon in the fade pulsed off her very being as she spat Dalish Curses that were used only for The Forgotten One’s. Her eyes were a vision of fire as she tore her gaze from her lower half up to Solas, no, Fen’Harel, baring her teeth as she continued to spit profanities. Along with the emptiness of her very being, now vexing betrayal clawed at her insides, and while she had just wanted to give up and rest not moments ago, death was not the answer she sought. 

“Why now!?” She snarled. 

Why was it always the same with him, but more importantly, she asked herself, why had she not seen this coming? Upon each of their encounters, becoming more and more violent towards each other, she had always begged to know why he let her live. Nevas had even gone as far to suggest during one tormented dream drop into The Fade that he should just take the chance then in her weakened state. But each time, he merely shook his head and left, leaving her with more questions than before. However now, she looked upon a Would-Be-God as he stepped away from her, his gaze still glowing eerily. 

“You have had dozens of moments in which you could have ended my life! I never stood a chance, and now those lives that were lost because you didn’t kill me back at the ruins…..” Nevas clenched her jaw, the sound like rope going taut.

“I wanted to give you a chance at a life.” Solas spoke as though her emotion was nothing, as though she was a child, it was soft and clear, “You always had so much hope for the future; I wanted to see what life you would have made for yourself, even before the end you wanted to use what power you had to change the world. At first, you did…” The thought of the past brought a weak smile to his face, but it was shadowed by a scowl that did not forget the rest of the past, “But, Humans are predictable, and without an organisation at your back, you soon meant nothing to them.” 

He was light on his feet as he stepped backwards to further the gap between them, folding his arms behind his back loosely, just watching her. It was hard to tell the expression he wore, sadness or one of amusement; those stormy eyes made it difficult to read. Stone was beginning to crawl over her hands and arms. 

“But why now, of all the moments?” Solas pondered, and after a short pause watching the magic consume up to her chest, “Even with Honour broken inside you, you would still fight me and try to stop me still. I am on the brink of completing my efforts to bring down The Veil, and I cannot have you standing in the way anymore.” 

“I wanted to believe you were more than The Dread Wolf of Legend, Solas,” Nevas said, her head down, unable to look at the monster before her no longer. All Pride and No Honour. “But you have done little to sway that, and now all I see is The Great Betrayer.” 

The stone had ceased climbing up her waist, stopping all together. She looked up, breathing ragged still from shock, and found Solas hesitating as the magic dropped from his eyes as he began to shake. The Daish were wrong about him, they did not know all he had done to free those under tyranny, only that he ‘stole’ The Gods away from them. They were wrong! He stood against those that abused the weak and disadvantaged, he would be bringing in a new age for them, one free of everything that held them down or collared them. He forever fought for those that could not, defend what was right and rebel against the rules that hurt The People!

“No…” He whispered, voice cracking as anger filled him, “The Dalish are wrong, you are wrong!” Solas’s voice echoed through the ruins, a whisper turned into a yell. 

The God returned to his imposing stature, his teeth were bared like a wolf about to lunge for its prey coupled with the glowing iridescent eyes. Nevas had watched Solas lose his nerve, thinking maybe she had a chance, but all she did was stoke the fire that fueled him further; stone began to replace her skin once again as she lost all feeling from her shoulders down. She held her gaze, defiant even at her end, and a fire burned in her eyes as she matched his intense rage. 

“Fen’Harel, may you forever be alone.” Nevas howled. 

There was a cold lash that whipped against the skin of her cheek, what looked to be a scar of stone over her cheek and up middle of her eye, she had cried out, but something inside her snarled, clawing at her insides and warmed her chilled body. Solas stood sneering above her, the cold magic consuming all of his eyes as his fingers clenched around essence of magic, about to finish his spell. As the stone washed over the back of her neck and around her hair, Nevas kept her narrowed gaze locked to him, she bared her teeth and roared, even as her skin prickled around her jaw and ears, even as her death was closing around her, something inside her sparked a primal rage. 

“I may have wished for this so many times, but I will not let you forgot your greatest betrayal.” Her voice was unlike her own, it resonated with something deeper, echoed with dark tones, almost demonic. 

A high pitched sound emianated around her stone body as she began to bellow a guttural scream, the stone around her heart turning red with heat as cracks started to appear, fainting glowing. Solas twisted his hand in an attempt to speed the spell along, could only step back from the sheer force of her voice and the heat emitting from her body. With one final roar, the stone shattered from around her, rubble laying around her before she kicked off the ground and lunged towards her enemy. Solas was unable to react in time, his feet slipping from under him as her shoulder connected with his torso he felt the air leave his lungs as he gasped as they hit the ground, pain sprouting around his back. He howled something unfamiliar to Nevas in Elven, and before she had a moment to launch another attack, she was pushed away from Solas by an invisible force and thrown against the wall on the other side of the room. 

A moment later, the Ancient Elf came to his feet holding his stomach with an arm, breathing harsh in an attempt to ground himself once more. He coughed while breathing in a couple of times, a bruised feeling spreading across his torso. It was an age ago since he had last been caught off guard in the heat of battle, and even longer than he cared to remember when someone had resisted the magic of old. Being honest with himself, it was unsettling that someone born disconnected from The Fade for so long could have such a talent. 

The sound of stone moving caught his attention, and his gaze shifted over where Nevas had fallen. He was not surprised to see her also finding her feet, she was strong, and had taken hits from Giants, a force push should have been nothing more than a gentle push. 

However, it was her un-settling appearance that had found his eyes going wide, and he quickly summoned his staff to his hand. 

Gone was everything he knew of her, her lithe form was now taller and slightly wider to carry the added bulk to her legs and arms, the muscles like that of a Qunari. The sections of dragon scales that had been weaved into her armour were dull from wear and age, but now they were flushed with intense colours; inwards blood red blurring into the shade of bright blue lyrium. The arm made from stone now yielded to the lyrium within, sharing the same dragon scale pattern and colour as her armor, short, sharp and black claws extending from her nails and fused with no sign of a seam to her shoulder. Even her soft and rounded facial features had yielded to her rage, it was hard to picture her previously almost innocent face against this sharp jawline, pointed chin and drawn back eyes. Her gaze was blazing with fury, pupils slitted and focused, unmoving on The Wolf. 

Nevas had morphed into what her blood willed, aided by rage and the will of a broken spirit. The warrior compelled by the complex magics to remain alive, and fight for her life. 

The fingers that held her sword made from the bones of a would be God-Dragon, clenched around the hilt of the blade and held it out in front of her, pointed towards her quarry as her lips pulled back, revealing a pair of newly sharp fangs in a dark grin. 

“Fen’Harel, you sought my end in my moment of weakness.” Her voice echoed around the ruins, darker than before, “Now, I shall return the favour.” 

Taking a deep breath in, The Reaver howled much louder than before and a red ring erupted from her feet spurring on her Dragon Rage. Solas only had seconds to react before she had lunged forward again, striking downwards with her sword arm. The air shook around him as a barrier took the force of the impact, but seconds later, her dragon palm made a similar strike; starting from above and sliced across his armor. The impact staggered his footing, her claws scorching part of the wolf fur adorned on his shoulder. Seeing her enemy faltered from her attack, she pressed on with her sword arm. 

The Wolf parried her blows with his staff, watching her with a piercing gaze as she remained relentless in her pursuit. Any attempt to sweep her feet was blocked by the dragon arm, thick skinned able to take the sharp edge bottom end of the staff; on the third attempt, Nevas wrapped her clawed hand around it and pulled from Solas’s grip, throwing it off to side. But something magic lashed out against her chest and she howled in pain as a long ice shard pierced through her front. The cold magic battled against her Dragon Fire from within, and what may have been a mortal wound before, only fed the rage inside; a Reaver’s greatest strength was taking their pain and turning it upon their enemies. 

Blood began to stain her armor, though instead of dripping down her, Solas could see the crimson being pulled to her arm where the lyrium had been. His eyes went wide, unable to comprehend the Elf before him; part dragon, consumed by the fire inside her. Just how powerful was the dragon she drank from!? 

“Nevas! Look at what you have become!” He shouted at her, a hand failing outwards while the other held tightly onto his staff. 

The creature before him peered down at the shard embedded in her chest, then to her arm. Claws pressed against the magic, melting it, before the blood was pulled back into her wound. Skin knitted back together, but her armor did not receive the same treatment. Solas was taken aback, no mortal in this world had ever demonstrated such a power. He had seen those consumed by demons and spirits, but they were nothing more than empty shells and pitiful excuses for demons. What stood in-front of him was much more, and Elf tempered by the blood of a Dragon, but rather than fall victim to the blinding power, she had molded her strength to something beyond normal feats of a warrior. 

The lyrium in her arm, he thought, maybe had awoken a dormant magic within her, or even the dragon blood itself? Her will must have been strong to do this. 

There was a loud snarl as Nevas turned, baring her fangs at the God, and he could only watch as the whites of her eyes disappeared, becoming blood red as her blue eyes once more focused on him. A fool he had been thinking she would just lay down and let this happen; it was all the more reason he could not let her continue. But what she said next shook his very being, making his soul turn cold. 

“You are a Wolf alone, Solas,” Her voice was low still, a faint demonic echo, “and now, you will die alone.” 

Her movements were like a blur as she leapt forward, and dived towards him with her claws out stretched with a speed he had never witnessed. The attack was a feint, her sword arm quickly came down over his staff as he blocked the blow, but he couldn’t deflect the claws as they tore down shoulder and side, gauging the flesh beneath the glinting armor. He cried out, his arm wrapping around his torso, holding himself up; Nevas focused in on the wound she inflicted, and went in for a third strike from above with her sword, however Solas was swift with his response. The God sent a bolt of lightning aimed at her chest, hoping to antagonise the strike from before. Nevas was thrown back against a pillar from the sheer force, nevermind the pain that shot through her as the spell hit it’s mark. She hissed, a dropped her sword as she hit the stone. 

“Twice,” She growled, Solas could see the scales from her arm had extended over her chest, covering the hole from her armor; a seething black mark from the bolt right in the middle, leaving the scales charred, “went for my heart, Dread Wolf. Let me return the favour.” 

With only enough time to cast a healing spell, Solas was on the defensive again as she came at him again. An ice wall erupted before her, but all it took was a strike from her dragon arm was to shatter it, not even slowing her down. His arm went out, and small darts of magic flitted across the floor before his staff took the enraged dragon attack, the force pushed his feet off balance as Nevas darted behind him. He cast a barrier swift enough to take the first blow, before turning to face her; he thrust the staff down into the ground with a shout, a force push to send her back once more. The God felt the sweat on his bow, almost coughing from the effort to hold her back. 

Sensing his weakened state, Nevas lunged forward again, her strength willing her onwards to defeat her enemy; she was a relentless spirit who would not rest until he was destroyed! 

As she got closer, pressing her attack, Nevas had only been focused on her foe, not once had she noticed the runes placed over the stone. The Elf had stretched out her claws to run him through, but instead her body dropped to the ground, convulsing from the pain as electricity pulsed over her nerves. No amount of dragon skin could stop the strong magic as it held her inside the rune, and Solas stepped forward, gaze sweeping over her as he spoke, holding the burst of emotion from the pain she was in.

“Dragons rely on their overbearing power to win battles,” A slight edge of remorse within his words, such arrogance she thought, “They use fang and claw, breath and force to decimate their foe; they don’t watch the battle field and have little care for pain if it means a stronger attack.” 

He was wounded by her appearance; all his doing. 

The God stood above her, a dark glare as he watched her struggle against the spell. She embodied the very nature and spirit of a dragon before him, but her form was new; he patiently waited for a moment to strike, letting her struggle with her new strength. The last of the wound she had caused him was healing as she tried to move against the magic, he could see her arms straining, the muscles in her neck tensing, though her eyes had never left his. They burned with such intensity; he could see the struggle of his people within such a gaze, and it only reminded him of why he was doing this. Solas raised his staff for an attack, at point blank, and she found her voice in that moment, roaring back in page and rage. 

“It brings me no joy to do this.” He spoke softly. 

Nevas spat at him, “Liar. Fen’Harel.” 

The Ancient flinched, reminded of her words before; The Dalish Monster, the nerve she hit again. 

The rune spell flickered as his concentration faltered, Nevas roared as the pain faded along with the spell and dove against The God, catching him off guard before pinning him against the stone. Solas had thought she would have stopped to see his sullen expression, and lose her will to fight, but above him he saw such determination in her gaze as she reared back and placed her dragon-like hand against the plate over his chest, pressing down hard. Heat began to emit from beneath her claws, singing any fur between her fingers and burning the metal plate so much it started to glow. He groaned, the temperature leaving him short of breath. 

“This ends now.” Snarled the beast above him, her eyes sparking with her full intent. 

Solas looked from her hand against his chest, his skin starting to burn, wincing but looked to her, “That it does Vhenan.” 

The Reaver roared, starting to curl her claws against his skin, as his eyes illuminating as his expression went cold, activating his magic. The Dragon Raged above him, and pulled back her arm readying for her final strike; Solas thrust his arm towards her as The Veil folded around his fingers, as though he was pushing against a taught fabric, and clenched his hand into a fist not closing it completely, like he was holding something.

Nevas stopped suddenly, her road dying in her throat as she looked down at Fen’Harel’s hand. The fingers clutched tightly on something, slowly twisting; it matched the pain that spread in her chest. All her strength dissipated, and her scales lost all their bright colour. 

“Solas…” She whimpered, her voice much like her own again. 

“If your Reaver Spirit won’t let you die, then I am forced to this” Solas growled. 

Even through the pain of The Fade clasped around her heart, she shot him a cold look, he could have stopped all this and let the world be. His other hand twisted like the first, and she felt something cold tug at her shoulder, allowing him to be free of her and to stand. Nevas began to thrash against the hold, but it clawed into her shoulder and held her heart tightly. She had to fight.  
“You are only making this worse!” He spat.

She could it now, The God before him; even with a pained expression. Even as the Dragon Blood bade her to attack, the mortal mind knew she didn’t stand a chance anymore. Even The Well was silent in this paused moment. Did Mythal want her to die now? 

“She doesn’t desire your death. She can see you in the future she wishes to bring to The Elves, Ma Vhenan.” He whispered softly. 

A broken cry poured from her lips, “Do not call me that!”

Solas ignored her, “But you can’t stand in my way, Her Way!” 

“Please, there is no more Honour in your actions, give up and restore any that you can.” Even the broken spirit begged her to stay her fight. The entity, even broken, was still it’s own despite the pair were bonded through life. Nevas could feel tears burn her eyes, before falling over her cheeks. The world would forever be against her. 

“I cannot stand by while thousands of innocents will die, I will not watch this world burn for the next!” She wept, followed by an ugly cry as the phantom hand tightened around her heart, testing her. “Let me go and give me a final moment to defend my world,” 

With a sudden and violent flash of magic, a piercing gaze of glowing eyes red eyes that matched the Ancient's eerie and hollow stair; the severe pain fueling The Reaver within as she pushed against The Fade that held her in place. Blood unnaturally seeped from her wounds and began to link a pattern around her visible flesh like a Vasallin. Markings befitting a power being, to show the force of nature that dwelled within, a Great Dragon. Lines poured down her face in straight edges, pointing down her cheeks and jaw as it extended down across her shoulders and down her arms; it left a space around her heart that of an egg with straight edges. 

“Or put an end to me now.” 

Solas couldn’t contain his emotions any longer and let out a cry; frustrated she would choose her end over him, and that she would still stand against him. So wrapped up in his own world, and the one he wished to make, he still could not predict her choices after all this time. He could feel a strong emotion cascade over him, consuming him. Those cold eyes began to glow as anger made his magic stronger as he wrapped more of The Veil around him and the very world seemed to tremble around them. The air was electric, the static bristled over their skin as though something was laughing at their pain; Solas had felt this before, long ago, and even those brands along her skin were familiar, something old and full of rage; something he had locked away years ago. 

Sensing his hesitation, the half dragon woman burst free against the hold he had, and even though it felt as though her very being was torn from the fabric around him, Nevas gave herself over to the fury inside, and plunged forward for an attack. 

“Irbelas, ma Nevas.” 

And for the first time he spoke her name; in her final moments. 

She heard him, and it only spurred her forward more as she cried out her war song, a yell brandished in vengeance for her world. The Veil began to pierce her skin as a white glow emitted from all around The Dread Wolf, his hands twisting further into the Web around the world. It pulled at her arms, forcing them above her as fire appeared to stir in her throat. Wisps of magic spun around his hand that was clenched, while his other hand opened, fingers aligning to a point. Nevas thrashed against the very Veil that held the world together, but she was unable to move in time. 

Fen’Harel stepped forward, eyes luminous as he thrust forward with his hand. Nevas’s mouth opened, but there was silence. 

Darkness pulled the light from her eyes as she looked to Solas, holding her heart, now turned to stone; she fell, but did not feel the ground as she plunged into the void.


End file.
